


nothing but my electric soul

by PaisleyLove96



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Asexual!Niall, Asexuality, Bi!Zayn, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:16:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2650064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaisleyLove96/pseuds/PaisleyLove96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall has never been good at going cold turkey is the thing, and he and Zayn had grown impossibly closer over the last few months.</p><p>Set after the WWA tour.<br/>Niall is asexual, Zayn is not, but they'll work through it together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing but my electric soul

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my incredible beta Erin, you are the bomb diggity, and of course to the mods of this fantastic ficathon :)
> 
> As always, this is for j.

_Nothing but My Electric Soul_

He’s never been good at going cold turkey is the thing. Months and months spent living on top of the same people and suddenly any space bigger than a hotel room is too large for Niall to be alone in.

The tour had been absolutely insane, he hadn’t realised how big the world was until they decided to cover it. There were some cities they barely spent more than ten hours in before rushing off somewhere else.  Months of being constantly in motion, never stopping for more than a day, meant when they finally did it felt like crashing into a brick wall.

It’s been just over a week, Niall’s slept off the jetlag and now he’s just bored and lonely. But most of all, he misses the boys. Niall thought he’d be glad to be rid of them, in all honesty, completely sick of the faces he had to see every day. But now he’s sitting on his phone, scrolling through all the pictures he’s collected of the stage, or the sightseeing stuff they did, or just the random collection of hi-jinks they’d gotten up to.  

God, he has to talk to someone before he starts looking up YouTube footage or something similarly crazy.

Niall flicks quickly into his contacts, scrolling through. Liam’s gone back to Rio with Sophia, so he’s out.  Louis and his family are in France, and Harry’s in LA doing whatever he does when he’s in LA, so he can’t call them either.  Zayn is-

Zayn.

During the tour, Niall and Zayn had grown even closer, if that was possible. After breaking up with Perrie just before the start of the tour, Zayn had been a bit of a mess. Of course, Louis was more than happy to try and fix him through the magic of technically-legal-in-this-country drugs and distraction, but Niall could still sense the bone-deep sadness that Zayn had carried around with him.

Niall knows he has a bit of reputation with the fans, and even some of his friends, as being this kind of “ha-ha pints” lad, who was good for a laugh and some fun but not anything serious. It was bullshit, of course. Niall prided himself on being perceptive about his friend’s emotions, especially the lads. You can’t spend the good part of four years with someone, and not learn how well they cope with things. And Zayn still wasn’t totally okay with it all. So, of course, Niall had made an extra effort to look after Zayn.

He’d clung to Zayn throughout the concerts, grateful the staging meant it didn’t look completely out of place when Niall would race to wrap his arms around Zayn whenever he felt something even slightly off with the other boy. Niall made it his personal mission to cheer up Zayn, and eventually Zayn started clinging back.

The rest of the band, and even some of the crew, had noticed their newfound closeness. They’d tease them both mercilessly whenever Zayn and Niall were within a foot of each other, but for all of Louis winking ridiculously or Harry wolf-whistling, it was always laced with a warm fondness, a soft smile or a hair ruffle.

On the bad nights, or sometimes the really good nights, it had meant both of them curled up together on a couch in the back of the bus at 3am.  They’d talk a lot, passing the time. Most nights they’d just talk shit, but then other nights, nights when the darkness felt like a trusted secret keeper, things would get more serious.

Zayn would talk about Perrie a lot, sorting through what went wrong and what he could have done to fix it, which was nothing really. Niall would reassure Zayn, comfort him, but he knew that Zayn had to sort his head out before he could try to move on. Niall would talk too, of course. He talked about home a lot, about how glad he was when he was told he could finally get braces, or how insecure he still feels about playing guitar on stage surrounded by professionals like Sandy and Josh, but he’d still never really been able to talk about relationships, in any form.

 Of course, the boys all knew that Niall wasn’t into girls. It’d be impossible to keep something like that secret surrounded by four hot-blooded lads, if he even wanted to. No one minded of course, when he told them all as they were all huddled together on a couch the night before they began the X-Factor tour. They’d all hugged him a bit tighter after he managed to utter the words, “I don’t really like girls in that way, I think I’m gay.” They’d said the usual stuff, the “it’s okay” and “we still love you,” but it was their smiles that had spoken of love and acceptance and so much more than empty phrases. 

Niall coming out that way seemed to trigger something because soon enough Harry was saying that he’s, “kissed a boy once in school and it wasn’t half bad so yeah, maybe I’m not completely straight,” while Zayn had just said a simple, “I’m bi.”

And that had been that, really. Zayn was bi, Harry was not straight, Niall was gay, Louis and Liam were probably straight and they were all still in a band and loved each other.

All in all, being gay had been a lot easier than Niall had really thought it would be. He’d come to the conclusion when he was about sixteen. All of his mates had started sneaking out behind the school sheds to make out with girls, but Niall wasn’t really interested in it that much. The defining moment had been when his mate, Sean, had lost his virginity, an encounter he’d regaled to Niall in horrifying detail. He’d assumed that his complete lack of interest and vague feelings of disgust towards the incident had stemmed from the fact that maybe he just wasn’t into girls and thus had to be into guys. It was as simple as that.

There hadn’t been many out guys in the town Niall grew up in, so his ability to test that theory had been basically impossible. Even after the X-Factor and coming out to the lads and maybe finally having the chance to meet someone, he still hadn’t.

The idea of being in a relationship isn’t objectionable in any way, but Niall’s pretty content with his life as it is. He tells everyone that he just doesn’t have the time and that his boys are enough, which is mostly true as well. His four boys are all he needs right now.

So yeah, Niall didn’t really talk that much about his own relationships, or lack thereof. Didn’t mean he couldn’t still be there for Zayn though.

By the time they left South America, Zayn had been “all healed up, Ni. Promise.” But that hadn’t put a halt to what they were doing, this new brand of friendship they’d developed. They still chased each other around on stage, still went out just the two of them, and they still curled up together on the couch at night, whispering into the darkness.

More often than not on those nights, they would fall asleep wrapped up in each other, hands entwined together with Zayn’s head tucked in against Niall’s chest. And if Niall had to ignore the way his stomach flipped when Zayn’s lips would brush gently against his jaw in the middle of the night, well, that was a different issue altogether.

 He calls Zayn.

 “Hey Ni, y’alright?” Zayn’s voice is light and happy when he answers the phone, and Niall knows he’s made the right choice.

“Course I am!” Niall replies. “Listen, you got anything important on in the next few days?”

There’s some shuffling sounds on the other end, the distinctive clinking of spray paint cans in the background and Zayn says, “Nah, not really. I’ve just been hanging around, y’know how it is.”

And Niall does know.

 The way Zayn needs to pull away for a bit after tour, lock himself away, living off of take out and weed for a week or two. But Niall also knows that eventually Zayn needs someone to pull him out, because he won’t do it himself, a responsibility that Niall is more than happy to take on.

“Come stay with me for a while.”

“Why?” Zayn asks, genuine curiosity mixed in with an amused laugh.

“Why not?” Niall responds, “Come _on_ Zayn, I’m so bored.”

Niall tries to add an exaggerated whine to his voice, hoping that it might play upon some kind of empathy nerve in the other boy, but it ends up feeling more genuine than he expected.

“Niall,” Zayn’s voice is serious, “is something wrong?”

“Course not.” Niall keeps his voice cheery, trying not to cringe at the way it seems kind of false.

“Niall.”

“I just miss you is all,” Niall replies quietly after a bit of a pause. “The house is really big.”

Zayn just hums in response, as if he heard something in Niall’s voice that Niall didn’t mean to reveal.

“Okay, let me pack some stuff and call a driver. See you in a couple of hours.”

 

**-**

It’s just gone six o’clock when the doorbell echoes through Niall’s house.

“Let me in you twat, it’s freezing out here!” Zayn’s voice crackles through the security microphone.

Niall just laughs, not bothering to respond before he presses the button to open the gates.  He moves to wait by the door, meaning he’s ready for when Zayn does his best to bash it down a minute later.

“Zayn!” Niall practically shouts, throwing the door wide open to see him standing there, hood up over his face, plastic bags clutched tightly in one arm and an unamused expression on his face.

“’Bout time,” Zayn mutters as he bustles in, kicking off his shoes and putting them on the wooden shelves Niall keeps by the door.  

Niall watches him, smiling, so that when Zayn finally looks up he’s practically forced to offer a small smile back.

“Hi,” Zayn half sighs, letting warmth colour his voice before shuffling forward to wrap Niall in a half-hug. “C’mon, I bought Pad Thai, we gotta eat it before it gets cold.”

Niall just watches as Zayn shuffles past him and into the kitchen, feeling lighter and less lonely already.

**-**

“Have you thought much about what you’re gonna do for the rest of break?” Zayn asks. They’re sitting on Niall’s L-shaped couch, wedged into the corner with the take out spread around them and two half-drunk beers sitting on the low table.

“Nah, not really.” There isn’t actually that much time between the end of tour and their first commitments for the new album, and even though the other boys were doing their best to cram it all in, Niall would much rather enjoy the break properly. “Didn’t see the point, not when we’re starting album promo so soon.”

“What are you doing for the proper holidays, then?”

“I’m gonna head back home for Chrissy, see the family and all,” Niall’s voice softens at the thought of being back home, spending quality time with his parents and brother and all the family he doesn’t see nearly as often as he would like. “But I’ll be back here by New Year’s.”

Zayn smiles at that, “You’ll come and visit, yeah?”

“Course I will,” Niall nudges his elbow lightly into Zayn’s side, “you know I never let you hole up alone for too long.”

Niall half expects for Zayn to say something back, defend the way he’ll spend weeks in his house, barely interacting with anyone. But instead, all he does is smile. The smile that crinkles his eyes and distorts his face in a way that’s a lot less Greek god and a lot more cheeky five year old. The smile that’s so rare in public these days, that whenever Niall sees it, it’s like the sun has come out after months of rain.

The smile that, well, it just gives Niall a lot of _feelings_ alright?

Warm happy buzzy feelings that make Niall want to smile and hug Zayn and maybe hold his hand a little bit. Feelings he’s been mostly trying to ignore because Zayn is his bandmate and also just got out of a relationship and probably doesn’t even like him like that, so really what’s the point?

Niall just puts his empty bowl on the table, stacking it with Zayn’s, before letting out a contented sigh as he sinks back into the couch. He also kind of falls into Zayn’s side, arms pressed against each other. It’s not that he’s grown unused to touching Zayn or being close, but it’s still a bit of a shock when Zayn picks up his hand and links their fingers firmly.

He looks up, a question in his eyes but is met only with Zayn’s steady gaze, concern lurking at the edges.

Zayn squeezes their hands together before asking, “D’ya wanna talk about why you wanted me to come over?”

Niall shrugs, “Like I said before, I just missed you is all.”

“You sure that’s it?” Zayn asks. “It has only been a week.”

Niall nods. “I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Zayn says, shifting so they’re pressed right against each other. “Missed you, Nialler.”

“It’s only been a week,” Niall repeats, playful tone in his voice.

But Zayn doesn’t rise to the bait, he just watches Niall softly and says, “But still.”

“Yeah, still…” Niall says, shifting ever so slightly until he can rest his head on Zayn’s lap.

“I missed you, Z,” Niall says again, but this time it kind of feels like he’s saying something different. “I missed this.”

When Zayn’s fingers tangle softly in the tips of Niall’s hair, it feels like he’s saying something different, too.

Niall just closes his eyes, letting himself enjoy the quite stillness of his house that’s only comforting because he can still hear Zayn’s quite breathing and feel the soft movement of the other boy’s fingers against his scalp.

Soon enough though, Zayn has to disturb Niall by standing up to deal with the dishes and grab them another drink. When he comes back, a glass of water in each hand, Niall is sitting up and just kind of watching him fondly.

“What are you staring at, you loon?”  He asks, pretending to be freaked out, but the fond tone gives him away.

“Nothing, just glad you’re here.” Niall can feel the ridiculous smile on his face grow and giggles the slightest bit, feeling ridiculous and knowing it’s the two beers they’ve already had and also not really caring.

“You absolute sap.” Zayn sits beside him, placing the glasses on the coffee table in front of him, while the beginnings of a smile twitch at the corner of his lips. “Are you gonna say you miss me again?”

“It’s the truth though,” Niall can feel a blush start to burn high on his cheeks at Zayn’s words, and his voice is a little softer when he says, “I _did_ miss you.”

“Oh shut up, Niall.” But there’s not really any trace of genuine annoyance in his voice, so Niall says it again.

And again.

“Missed you, Zaynie. Missed you. Missed you. Missed you.”

He says it until they’re both laughing and Zayn is half-heartedly trying to cover Niall’s mouth with his hand. They move in a flurry of arms and legs and squealing laughter until eventually, inevitably, they end up falling off the couch and wind up in a strange tangle of boyish limbs.

Niall’s still laughing somewhat breathlessly, his face wedged somewhere along the line of Zayn’s neck. When he pulls back slightly, he looks up to see Zayn watching him, no longer laughing but with amusement still crinkling the edges of his eyes.

He reaches up slowly, long fingers running tentatively along Niall’s jawline, before he applies the slightest amount of pressure, shifting Niall’s face impossibly closer.

For a moment, Niall’s not really sure what’s happening. There’s a slight buzz of drunkenness that clouds his brain in a way that makes everything seem delayed. But then he finally registers the feel of Zayn’s lips on his and it becomes hard to think about anything else. Except maybe, kissing Zayn back.

Their lips move together carefully. Niall’s happy to let Zayn kiss him, soft and tentative in the way he presses his lips against the other boy’s. It’s not that Niall’s never thought about kissing Zayn, he has. A lot. But he’s still surprised at how perfect it feels, at the warm content feeling that settles low in his chest and pulses throughout his body at every point that Zayn and Niall are touching. 

He reaches around to find Zayn’s other hand, where it had managed to settle somewhere near Niall’s ribs, and he tangles them together. Zayn squeezes his fingers where they’re linked together, gentle but firm and reassuring, and Niall knows that Zayn’s feeling the same.

It’s then that Niall finally gives into a smile that contorts his lips just as Zayn flicks out his tongue to lick along Niall’s bottom lip, and it results in a weird clash of mouth and teeth and tongue that sends Niall off into a round of giggles.

He’s laughing partly because of the pure feeling of happiness that is burning through his entire body, and partly because Zayn’s lips are probably magic, but mostly because he’s still a little drunk, and has forgotten how to appropriately process a moment like this. He presses his face back into the crease of Zayn’s shoulder, leaving a soft kiss at the base of his neck.

Niall’s so happy he’s practically vibrating, but then he pauses. Zayn’s gone still and a bolt of fear strikes through Niall. What if he’s managed to fuck this up? He’s a little scared to look back up at Zayn, but when he does, the other boy is actually just watching fondly and laughing as well. It’s a soft chuckle that’s barely audible, but clearly laughing _with_ and not _at_ Niall _,_ and all of Niall’s fears disappear. Of course Zayn would never laugh at him.

“You’re tired,” Zayn says, sitting up but making sure to keep their hands tangled together. “C’mon, let’s get back up on the couch before you throw out your knee again.”

Niall breathes out a sigh of relief, before moving back up onto the couch and sinking back into the cushions, leaving more than enough room for Zayn to slide in beside him. He’d meant to stay up, to talk to Zayn some more, maybe kiss him again, but he can already feel a wave of tiredness beginning to wash over him. He barely registers the feeling of Zayn resting his head on his chest before he closes his eyes and succumbs to sleep.

**-**

It’s late morning the next day when Niall wakes up.              

He’d fallen asleep on the couch and usually that would mean a crick in his neck and cold feet, but instead he’s surprisingly comfortable. He blinks slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the sunlight streaming through the slats in the windows before he looks around the room.

It’s then that Niall finally registers the weight on his chest and when he looks down, he’s greeted with Zayn’s sleep-soft face resting just below his sternum. Their legs are tangled together and during the night, Niall’s arms have moved to grip tight around Zayn’s hips, holding them together even though the couch is easily wide enough for both of them to lay side by side. Niall can’t help but laugh softly at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, the two of them clinging together like two survivors on a life raft. Zayn’s hand is resting near the edge of the couch, just an inch or so from Niall’s, as if at some point their fingers had been entwined before drifting apart during the night.

Almost without his permission, Niall’s hand shifts just enough that he can run his fingertips over Zayn’s knuckles, skirting around the bird outline that’s begun to fade just the slightest amount. Niall’s touch is cautious and feather-light, but lingering. He keeps the rest of his body still, careful not to wake the sleeping boy lying on his chest, but eventually Zayn shifts once, twice, before finally opening his eyes.

Zayn looks up at Niall, eyelids still heavy and hair mussed, but when he smiles, it’s soft and genuine.

 “Morning,” Niall says, voice cracking a little bit from lack of use.

“Hey,” Zayn says, voice equally as morning rough. “You been awake long?”

“Not really,” Niall replies, shifting so he can sit up properly now he no longer has to worry about waking the other boy.

Zayn hums low in his chest as he sits up as well. He stretches out his back and arms, revealing a small sliver of skin between the hem of his shirt and the top of his sweatpants. It’s a mixture of the natural dark brown of Zayn’s skin and the intricate black lines of the tattoo that sits low on his hip, and suddenly Niall is distracted from any thoughts of breakfast.

Zayn’s skin looks so soft and warm, and Niall wants to touch it. He wonders if the dark ink will feel raised or just like  a part of his skin; whether the callouses on his own fingers will make Zayn’s skin feel extra soft, extra warm.

Niall reaches out with a cautious hand, stopping just before their skin actually meets. He looks up to see Zayn already watching him, a soft amused smile on his face. Their legs are still hooked around each other, but reaching out and touching Zayn like this, sober and in the light of day with the fuzzy edged memories from last night’s kiss still in his head, makes it a different kind of touch.

It’s with a soft voice that Niall asks, “Can I?”

Zayn stays silent, but he nods once in response. Niall doesn’t break eye contact until his fingers finally touch the other boy’s skin. And _god_ Niall feels ridiculous that this simple touch feels so important and heavy. Niall get a little lost in the moment, stroking his fingers softly against the small patch of skin until he feels Zayn shift slightly on the couch, moving a little closer.

When Niall looks up again, he can’t help but let out a small gasp at how close Zayn’s face is to his. He can’t help but sway.

“Zayn,” Niall says, somewhat breathless.

“Yeah?” he responds, just as lightly, and Niall’s glad to know he’s not the only one who feels like this.

“Will you kiss me? Again? Please?” Niall tries not to plead, but all he can remember is how amazing it felt to be so close to Zayn, how perfect it was.

Zayn whispers out a soft ‘yes’ and when their lips meet for the first time that morning, it’s barely anything at all. A momentary brush of skin, a soft light drag of Zayn’s lips against Niall’s own, but nothing more. Niall can feel the slight movement of his body as Zayn ducks his head down and their lips catch softly, more purposefully. Niall makes a pleased noise as Zayn tugs lightly on his bottom lip, before pulling away ever so slightly.

They rest their foreheads together, and Niall can feel himself smiling like a loon. It feels like he hasn’t stopped smiling since Zayn arrived, and he’d feel a bit crazy but Zayn’s smiling at him in the same way, so it’s not so bad.

Niall’s hand reaches up to rest lightly near Zayn’s chest, curling lightly at the base of his neck. He scratches lightly at the stubble that’s growing at the edge of Zayn’s jaw, before leaning forward to press a light kiss at the same place, smiling when Zayn makes a small pleased noise at the back of his throat.

“I’ve been wanting this for so long,” Zayn tells him softly, whispering like a secret, before moving to recapture Niall’s lips once more. “I’ve wanted _you_ for so long.”

This time when they kiss again, Niall can feel something frantic behind the movement of Zayn’s lips. It’s hot and firm and just moments later, Zayn’s hand tangles in the front of Niall’s shirt and tugs lightly, pulling him closer as a soft moan slips out from between his lips.

It’s good, it’s all so good. It’s soft and warm and Niall’s so happy, but when Zayn’s hand slips just below the hem of Niall’s singlet, it all becomes too much, too fast. Niall makes an aborted noise against the press of Zayn’s lips, before moving back harshly and practically throwing himself off the couch.

 “Niall? Hey, where are you- ?” Zayn asks, reaching out trying to hold onto Niall’s arms as he pulls away, but before he can, the other boy has already run off

“Niall!” Zayn yells, moving quickly off the couch and after Niall. “Are you alright?”

His footsteps echo on the floor as he runs after Niall, following the other boy down the hallway, but Niall manages to get into the bathroom and slam the door before Zayn gets in. Instead, Zayn starts tugging on the handle, desperation and concern straining his voice as he yells Niall’s name.

Instead of responding, Niall just collapses against the toilet bowl, giving into the tears as he dry retches. His chest is heaving from the nausea brought on by a panic that he can’t quite identify. Nothing’s making sense, especially considering the panic that’s scrambling any coherent thought Niall’s having. He just keeps reliving the tight grip of Zayn’s hand on his shirt, and the rough press of his lips, and it’s still all way too much for him to handle.

He doesn’t know what or why this is happening, but his previous experience is telling him that he can deal with it later. The priority now is trying to get enough oxygen in his lungs and stop the way his heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“Niall, babe, please let me in. I just want to see if you’re alright?” Zayn pleads again, and Niall can hear the panic that’s lacing the edges of his voice. There’s a soft thump against the wall that sounds like Zayn collapsing against a wall, no doubt sitting down right outside the bathroom door to wait for Niall.

Eventually, Niall does open the door, almost half an hour later when his breathing has returned to normal and he’s finally gotten the taste of bile out of his mouth. He watches silently as Zayn scrambles to his feet and moves quickly into the room to stand in front of Niall. Zayn looks terrible. His face is stressed and pale, and his hair is dishevelled in a way that’s too messy to be stylish. Niall can imagine he looks much the same, probably worse. After all, he did just spend the last little while hunched over a toilet bowl.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn says, reaching out but still careful not to touch Niall.  “I’m so, so sorry Ni, I really did think you were okay with it all.”

Niall doesn’t really know how to respond, because he thought he was okay with it as well. Instead he reaches out and links the very tips of their fingers together.

“I would never push you, not intentionally,” Zayn implores. “I really did think you wanted more.”

“I did!” Niall says, before saying in a much quieter voice, “I do.”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t look like it!” Zayn says, voice still a little frantic as his eyes dart quickly over Niall’s body, taking in the blond boy’s appearance over and over again.  

“It’s not, I mean-” Niall says, “I _know_ you would never mean to push me like that. I trust you Zayn. It’s just-”

He makes a noise of frustration, unlinking himself from Zayn and leaning heavily on the cool tiled wall of the bathroom before unceremoniously falling on the floor.  Nothing makes sense in his head anymore. He wants Zayn, he wants to kiss him, hold his hand, and maybe call him his boyfriend and all that kind of stuff.

But he couldn’t do all the stuff that Zayn seemed to want. Even just kissing with tongue had basically given Niall a panic attack. There’s no way he could possibly do anything beyond that. And it’s not because it’s Zayn. Zayn doesn’t repulse him, in fact Niall’s never felt more comfortable than when he is with Zayn.

So then, why is he still reacting like this? He’s never been like this before, has he? Not with his girlfriend when he was younger, but they never did anything more than kissing. Niall never pushed for anything more, never wanted anything more than what they had.

He doesn’t want anything more than what he has with Zayn, except maybe to hold his hand more and be able to call Zayn his boyfriend. He wants more, but not.

And god, none of it makes sense to him, but he has to try and tell Zayn. He can’t lose him, not because of this.

“What would you say if, like, I wanted more? But not more, I mean like, relationship more? But not like physical more? So like more than what we do now but not really, you know?” Niall says, and it sounds ridiculous even to his own ears.

“Uh no, I don’t know?” Zayn kind of just stares at him, no doubt trying to work his way through what Niall just said. “What are you on about?”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” Niall replies.

“Okay,” Zayn says cautiously, nodding slowly with his eyes blown wide with concern. “Me too.”

“But-” Niall takes a deep breath, trying to push past the small part of him that’s cheering on the inside, so he can garner the courage to say the next part.

 “ _Idon’twannahavesexwithyou,”_ he blurts out, words running together in panic.

 _“_ What?” Zayn asks, and Niall can’t blame him really.

 “I don’t want to have sex with you!” Niall repeats, much louder than he had intended. ```````There’s silence, a pause that drags on a few more moments than Niall would prefer. Zayn’s expression is impassive and not even the tone of his voice gives it away when he says,

“That’s okay too. We can wait as long as you want.”

“No, you don’t get it,” Niall half-shouts, letting his frustration colour his voice. “I don’t _want_ to have sex with you. Or anyone. Ever.”

“Okay,” Zayn accepts easily, easier than Niall was expecting.  He must see Niall’s shocked expression because then he asks, “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“No. No, it’s more like you _didn’t_ say something wrong.”

“I-” Zayn’s eyebrows draw together. “I don’t get what you mean?”

 “Why don’t you have a problem with it?” None of this makes sense. Niall doesn’t get why he feels like this, he knows he’s being ridiculous and weird and a bunch of other things, and he just doesn’t understand why Zayn isn’t freaking out with him.

“With what?”

“I don’t want to have sex with you!” Niall yells again.

“Yes, you said that,” Zayn says; his calm voice is infuriating. Why is Zayn not getting it, he’s a freak!

“Or with anyone!”

“You said that as well.”

“UGH!”

“Ni,” Zayn says softly. He moves closer to where Niall is huddled on the ground, falling down to his knees in front of him. “Babe, I just don’t see what the problem is?”

“Shouldn’t you be disgusted by me?” Niall finally asks. “Or at least confused? Weirded out? I mean I’m a bloody popstar who doesn’t want to have sex!”

“I could never be disgusted by you, Niall. Never think that.” Zayn’s voice is still the same calm tone, steady and unnervingly sincere.

“But it’s _unnatural_ , innit?” Niall spits out. “I’m a guy. I should be going out shagging every girl I can.”

Zayn moves away slightly, shifting instead to sit close beside Niall and lean his own head against the wall until they’re both just staring up at the white expanse of the bathroom ceiling.

“Do you _want_ to shag every girl you can?” Zayn asks eventually.

“No.” Niall sniffles, the anger seeming to leak slowly out of his body, and his head comes to rest on Zayn’s shoulder

 “I don’t want to shag girls,” he whispers like a secret. “I don’t want to shag anyone. I’m a freak Zayn, can’t you just accept that?”

Zayn reaches up, letting his hands fall and tangle into Niall’s hair, starting to pet him softly. “Never.”

**-**

It’s later that day and Zayn has finally managed to wrangle Niall from his home in the bathroom corner and onto the couch, where they are currently sitting tangled together. Niall’s been quiet for a while, the comfortable silence that’s settled over them is broken only by the low hum of Zayn’s iPod playing from the kitchen.

Zayn’s tapping away quietly on his phone with one hand, the other looped loosely around Niall’s waist, hand resting gently on the curve of Niall’s hip. They’ve both been pretty quiet all afternoon, besides when Zayn had gotten up and made them both lunch, and Niall has used the time to sort through the mess that is his mind right now. There are lots of things Niall’s ignored or pushed away before now, lots of boundaries and clauses that he’s never even realised he had. But he needs to sort it out now, if he and Zayn are going to give it all a proper go. He owes it to Zayn, but most importantly he owes it to himself.

 “Why were you – _are you_ – so okay with this?” Niall asks eventually, breaking the silence properly.  It’s a question that’s been playing over and over in his mind, something that’s probably never going to go away.

“With what? You not wanting to shag me?” Zayn turns to look at the other boy. “I’m not that vain, Niall. I know not _everyone_ thinks I’m hot.”

“You know that’s not-”  Niall starts to object, but then he sees Zayn’s eyes crinkle a little at the sides, letting him know that he was just kidding. “Oh for- you know what I mean!”

“I do know,” Zayn says. “But you should tell me anyway, so you know that I know.”

 “I just need you to understand that I’m not going to be your boyfriend in the way you expect me to be your boyfriend.”

“I don’t expect-”

“No,” Niall squeezes Zayn’s hand, stopping him, “You were right, I need to say this. I need to know that you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

Zayn nods, settling back into the couch. “Okay.”

“I know you’ve dated before, and most, if not all of them, you had sex with.” Niall looks up for confirmation.

Zayn nods again, but this time stays silent so Niall can continue.

“Okay well, I can’t do that. I _won’t_ do that,” Niall says. “So when we agree to do this, I need you to understand that I do not want to have sex with you. Probably ever. I need you to know that, and I need you to be okay with that.”

“I am.”

“Also, I know we all touch a lot, the band and stuff that is. The friendly hugs, hickeys, the weird groping sometimes. But, believe it or not, I do have boundaries, and I really need you to respect them.”

“Of course, Ni,” Zayn says, and he’s never looked so serious in his life.

“Um, okay. I don’t have like, uh, a list or anything just,” Niall takes a deep breath, “don’t touch my –”He gestures vaguely to his crotch area,  “like at all; I guess it was okay before when it’s the other lads and we’re having a laugh, but now that we’re _us_ , I need you to not do that anymore.”

“And I know we’ve kissed a little bit, and it was good, but if you want to escalate like even a little bit, I need you to stop and ask me explicitly. Like, you saw what happened before.”

They both cringe a little at the memory.

“I can do that.”

“I know it’s ridiculous and I sound a bit crazy but-”

“Niall.” Zayn’s voice is sharp, and when Niall looks up, his brows are creased with frustration, “You need to stop doing that. You’re not ridiculous or crazy, and I’m not going anywhere. I already told you I’m all in.”

“But-”

“I am going to date the shit out of you Niall Horan, sex or no sex,” Zayn says vehemently. “And nobody’s gonna stop me.”

**_-_ **

That night, Niall’s sitting on the kitchen counter, legs dangling over the side as he watches Zayn rummage through the fridge, because he’s become absolutely intent on cooking Niall dinner. If anyone ever asked, Niall was ‘supervising’. In reality, he just wanted to be near Zayn, relishing in the small touches and brushes of skin whenever the other boy walked past him.

There was something frying on the stove top, and the surrounding area was covered in bowls filled with chopped up vegetables and sauces and a lot of things Niall didn’t really remember ordering in last week’s shopping.

He snapped a quick picture on his phone, eager to capture the moment like the massive sap he is. He has a bit of an internal debate before opening up the twitter app and tweeting the photo out, the caption reading ‘ _smells so good !! :)’_ and it instantly gains favourites and retweets.

But it’s the replies that are a lot more interesting, so he spends the next few minutes scrolling through those, replying to a couple about the new album. Most of the replies are just the usual “I love you” or “Marry me,” but they soon quickly devolve as the minutes go by into requests that are a lot more explicit. He grows more and more sickened as he scrolls until he finally locks it.

 “Fucking hell,” Niall mutters, half throwing his phone onto the counter beside him.

“Ni?” Zayn asks, walking back across the kitchen and coming to rest between Niall’s legs. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles, trying his best to curl up on himself, still glaring at where the offending phone is sitting.  Zayn follows his eye line and reaches over to pick it up, quickly unlocking it

“I’m Niall _fucking_ Horan,” he spits out, looking back up at Zayn who’s still scrolling through Niall’s phone, eyes wide and face growing sullen. “I should like this kind of attention.”

“No, Ni.  You don’t _have to_ like anything.” Zayn rests his free hand on Niall’s knee, a comforting warmth on the scarred skin that shows through the large rip. “These kind of tweets can make anyone uncomfortable.”

Niall can just imagine what he’s reading, the horrendously graphic tweets that make Niall’s skin crawl just thinking of them. “I just don’t like them _saying_ stuff like that about me, not when I’m, you know, not like that.”

Zayn looks up at him, brown eyes round and sincere. “Well, you can just tell them.”

“No, I can’t.” Niall shakes his head fiercely. He couldn’t do that, admit he didn’t like it so publicly. Even thinking about it felt a lot like throwing himself under a bus. He can just block them all, right? It’s fine.

“I’ll do it then,” Zayn says, putting Niall’s phone back on the couch before pulling out his beat-up iPhone from the back pocket of his jeans.

_@zaynmalik1D:can u guys pls not send us stuff bout sex or whatevs I kno u dont think we see it but we do & its rly awkward 2 read So pls dont tag us :)x _

“There you go,” Zayn says, shoving his phone back into the pocket of his jeans like he hadn’t just done something incredible. “Now you can just retweet it later, problem solved.”

Niall just watches him wide-eyed, mostly in awe but also a little bit in love. “How are you so okay with this?”

“Well, you’re asexual, right?” Zayn says, tone matter-of-fact.

“I’m- what?”

“Asexual?” Zayn repeats, quirking his head a little as he watches Niall. “It means that you have no desire to have sex.”

“I, well yeah I guess. I haven’t really thought about it much. I didn’t even know that was a thing,” Niall replies, a bit overwhelmed. “I just thought I was gay.”

Zayn pauses for a moment. “I reckon you can be gay and still be asexual.”

“How do you know all this stuff?”

“I dunno, just stuff I’ve picked up along the way.” Zayn shrugs again, finally moving back to the stove and stirring whatever’s in the fry pan. “You creep long enough on twitter and you learn a thing or two.”

“Asexual,” Niall says, rolling the word around in his mouth carefully. “Are you sure it’s a real thing? Maybe I’m just doing something wrong? Or, or, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll grow out of it!”

Zayn picks up some of the bowls of vegetables, throwing them into the fry pan perhaps a little more forcefully than needed, but that’s the only indication he’s frustrated with the way Niall responded.

“Niall, do you really think you’re doing something wrong?” he asks, voice as steady as ever as he concentrates on mixing the vegetables together. “Do you really think that you’re broken?”

“No,” he responds almost immediately; he’s always been confident in who he was, never ashamed of his quirks. But then he remembers the sharp feeling that would roll around in his stomach whenever he would hear the boys talking, or they’d watch a movie with a sex scene, or be told to act ‘sexy’ during a photo shoot. “Maybe a little.”

“Do you think this is something you’re going to grow out of?” Zayn asks, still not looking up as he starts pouring a sauce into the pan. Niall’s never been so glad to have Zayn here, to have someone who knows him this well.

He takes longer to respond this time, trying to imagine being someone like Harry who has no problems with casual sex or frank discussions about his sex life, but he just can’t. “No.”

“Then I just don’t see why it’s any different than other sexualities.”

“It’s completely different to other sexualities!”

“Well, a little.” Zayn shrugs. “But look at it this way; every single person is different. Some people will do things in bed, and some people won’t. A lot of people have a long list of things they don’t want to do, and you just happen to not want to do any of it. It’s not that different.”

“Oh, that- that makes a lot more sense actually.”

“I think maybe we should look some stuff up? Maybe it’ll help you work out how you’re feeling.”

“That sounds great, Z,” Niall says, and he means it.

 Zayn starts serving up what Niall now realises is a stir-fry into some dinner bowls. Niall offers to help, but is quickly waved away as Zayn stacks the dishes in the sink to be dealt with later. He grabs both bowls, handing one over to Niall as he leans against the counter next to him, his hip bumping gently against Niall’s legs as they eat together.

“You might have to stop me if I say or do something wrong,” Zayn says, after a few moments of silence. “And you’ll definitely have to keep explaining a few things to me, but I can’t not let this happen, Niall. I care too much about you.”

 Zayn sounds impossibly, infuriatingly sincere so Niall can’t help it when he jumps down off the bench, moving quickly to wrap his arms around Zayn’s waist. He lets out a heavy sigh when Zayn’s arms enclose him in a full hug, squeezing tight as he ducks his head into Niall’s shoulder. The soft scratch of Zayn’s stubble is not something Niall ever thought he would like, but in this moment it feels perfect.

“Me too, Zaynie, me too.”

When Niall goes to retweet Zayn’s message a few hours later, Liam’s retweeted it as well and instead of the barrage of tweets he usually sees, there are just pages and pages on fans calling out others for being disrespectful and defending the boy’s right to feel comfortable on twitter.

That night he goes to sleep happy, feeling impossibly safe and comfortable curled up in Zayn’s arms as they lay side by side in Niall’s bed.

**-**

It’s been a few days since what Niall has started referring to as ‘The Incident’, and it’s been so, so good.

They’ve settled themselves into a routine of movies and home-cooked meals and screwing around in Niall’s music room before going to sleep side by side in Niall’s bed, all of it punctuated with gentle kisses and the soft touch of hands on skin. Objectively, he knows that the little bubble they’ve managed to create in Niall’s house has to break eventually. Zayn’s promised to visit his family for a couple of days and there’s mountains of interviews and promo that is looming, but for now they’re both curled around each other on the couch. This goddamn couch that’s practically become their home away from home, the perfect place for cuddling up in one another.

It’s all pretty romantic, if Niall’s completely honest. The lights are dimmed, there’s music playing through the stereo, and the remnants of the pasta they made together is sitting on the coffee table in front of them, where a sweet-smelling candle is also burning.

Usually, Niall would find it all a bit nauseating. Even now, he’s a bit apprehensive of it all. He’s never been one for this kind of romantic shit. Not with the girlfriends he had when he was younger, or the boyfriends, and even as he grew older and watched his friends go on soppy dates with candles and flowers, he never really quite understood the appeal.

But now, with this beautiful boy nestled under his arm on his couch, Niall thinks that he’s beginning to understand. The way the light sits soft on Zayn’s cheekbones, the low comforting hum of his voice as they talk, the way their fingers play idly along the planes of each other’s arms and hands. The way that they could do this, just this, forever and Niall would never tire of it.

And yet, he could still feel something niggling in the back of his mind. An errant thought or two determined to pull apart everything Niall and Zayn had tentatively built in the last few days.

They were okay. They were together, and they were okay, and Zayn was okay with this.

Except, well, they couldn’t be, could they?

Not when Niall knew that Zayn _had_ to be lying at least a little bit, for Niall’s sake. Because Niall _knows,_ alright? He knows what Zayn was like, _is_ still like. He’d listened to him talk about Perrie, late nights on the bus with the boys when Niall would laugh along and pretend not to cringe at as they ‘compared notes’.

There’s no way Zayn is really one hundred percent okay with this.

 “Zayn,” Niall says his name, unsure and hesitant.

“Yeah?” Zayn starts only a little, breaking out of the slight doze he was about to succumb to.

“I have, uh,” Niall coughs. “Can we talk about something?”

“Of course.”

“I-” The words get stuck in Niall’s throat. He doesn’t know how to talk about this, god he’s so awkward.

“It’s okay,” Zayn says, obviously sensing Niall’s reluctance to talk, despite initiating the conversation in the first place.

“I guess- well I was just-” Niall takes a deep breath, trying to let the  gentle dragging of Zayn’s fingers across his knuckles calm him before he says, “I really don’t think I’d be okay with you going out and hooking up with other people.”

Zayn’s fingers halt, “Niall? What?”

“Look, I know you said you were okay with me, and us not doing certain things, just because I don’t want sex. But Zayn, you _are_ someone that has sex. We’ve practically lived together for the last four years, I know you. You get horny, you have sex, and that’s fine. I just- I don’t want you to feel miserable or trapped, and I’m too selfish to share you.”

Zayn’s stays silent while Niall talks, the only indication of what he is feeling is the tight grip he has on Niall’s hand.

“Okay, we need to talk about this. But before we do, I need you to know that I will never have sex with someone, or kiss them or even touch them, unless I have your permission. I don’t want anyone else involved in our relationship. Just us. Boyfriends. Okay?” Zayn meets his eyes and it’s impossible to fault the genuine look in his eyes. Niall believes him and feels the sense of happiness and security strengthen where it had tentatively taken root in Niall’s heart.

“Okay.” He nods.

“As for the sex stuff,” Zayn continues. “I looked some stuff up on the internet earlier-”

“You did research for me?”

“Of course I did,” Zayn says. “I never, ever want to hurt you again, especially if I can help it. So I looked some stuff up. We can go over it together, but there are lots of ways we can do this. Some people don’t do anything ever, which I’m okay with if we go down that path.  But there are also ways of compromising, making sure both parties are comfortable with what’s happening, whether it’s just in the same room, or just touching, or more. It all depends on the person and what they’re comfortable with. What _you’re_ comfortable with.”

“Maybe, we’ll see.” And it’s the truth. Niall might do just about anything to make Zayn happy, but knowing that Zayn would never push, that he would really be happy either way, is the best feeling in the world.

“And I’m here for you no matter what.”

Niall smiles at him, wide and happy. The conversation’s over, for now. It’s something that will come up again and again every few weeks as they work through this, but for now he’s happy with where they are.

 “We good?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Yeah, we’re good babe,” Zayn replies, reaching out and pulling Niall towards him. He presses a soft kiss to the younger boy’s forehead, before laying back against the couch and letting Niall rest on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It takes Niall a minute to pull out of his own head and realise that Zayn has stopped talking. He finally focuses back on the boy in front of him and realises he’s been borderline creepily staring at Zayn for perhaps a little longer than is acceptable, even if said person is his boyfriend.Zayn is his _boyfriend._

The term scared Niall in the best way possible.

“You’re my boyfriend,” he states, effectively breaking the soft silence that’s only just settled back over them.

Zayn laughs, a quick sharp laugh that effectively kills the mood entirely. But his smile is still fond and his voice is still without sting as he says, “Yeah, course I am. We’ve been over this.”

“I know. I just like saying it, I guess.”

“I like hearing you say it.”

“Maybe I want to say it for a very long time,” Niall admits.

Zayn smiles in response and it takes over his entire face. “Maybe I’d be okay with that.”

 “Hey, Z?” Zayn quirks an eyebrow, but lets his face soften when Niall curves a soft hand along his cheekbones.

“I know the last few days we’ve talked about me a lot. But I need you to know how important you are to me, too. You’re beautiful and kind and smart and pretty much everything I’ve ever wanted really.” Niall runs his hand down Zayn’s neck, slowly tracing along his broad shoulders and the lean muscles outlined by the mesh of tattoos, until finishing in Zayn’s palm where it rests softly. “This isn’t gonna be easy for either of us. It’s new and frustrating and lots of other things, but you’re worth it. You’re so worth it, Z.”

Zayn twists his wrist from where Niall’s started playing softly with his hand, linking his fingers between Niall’s own, and holding on tight.

 “May I kiss you, Niall Horan?” Zayn asks, his voice soft and delicate as he shuffles impossibly closer.

Niall nods in return, giving in to the wide smile that seems to be almost permanently etched on his face these days.

“Yes you may, Zayn Malik.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)  
> You can find me on tumblr at [lou-makemetea](http://www.lou-makemetea.tumblr.com)  
> Love ya,  
> N


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